Category Archives: Parenting

July 8, 2010 · 10:09 pm

Death and the next-day nightmare

THE hot weather has meant restless nights all round. Both Billy and Dougie have had random, unexpected, one-night only hay-fever symptoms. (Pharmacist tip: put a bowl of water beneath an open bedroom window which will attract any pollen in the air like a magnet).
Everyone’s been a little over-emotional through lack of shut-eye.
Nothing prepared me though, for Billy’s next-day-nightmare.

Six-year old Bill is quite chirpy, not one to dwell on things and never afraid to ask a question. He’s usually a good sleeper but about once a month will wake up absolutely crying his head off. It’s quite a shocker, and usually happens just a couple of hours after he’s gone to bed.

He doesn’t take long to calm down, usually agrees to be taken to the loo, and despite trying to get him to tell us what’s wrong, he’s so quick to go back to sleep we don’t ask anymore.We had one of these wake-up-screamings this week.
The following day, Billy came to me in floods of tears, sobbing uncontrollably, asking if it was true that when you died you never woke up again? And when your heart stops, why doesn’t it just start again? And when you die, where does your brain go?

It took ten minutes of cuddling and cooing to calm him down enough so we could talk. Why had he suddenly got so upset about it? “It was what I was thinking when I woke up last night but when you asked what was wrong I couldn’t tell you,” he sobbed.

How do you explain death to a six-year old without scaring them even more?

We’re not religious. The whole “going to heaven” idea felt insincere.

You shouldn’t go on about people ‘going to sleep and never waking up’ either, or that a loved one has “gone to a better place,” prompting the child to think, “well, why didn’t they take me then?”

I tried to be as truthful as I could without being too graphic. I said that sometimes people’s bodies just wore out, or got broken, but some people believe that when your body stops working, your thoughts go to places you like and do things you enjoy, and they call that heaven.

He seemed to accept the explanation that unlike Mummy’s plants, humans can have brilliant long lives and even live for 100 years, and that every time someone dies, a new baby is born somewhere in the world.
Once we’d discussed the logistics of there needing to be room for new babies, he chirped right up and hasn’t mentioned it since.

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June 30, 2010 · 11:16 am

Tripping worries me

DO school trips scare the bejesus out of you? After all these years they still terrify me. Paranoia is set to maximum.

I know it’s irrational. I know accidents are few and far between, and more injuries happen in the home than anywhere else, but I can’t help it. Coaches, travelling, peer pressure and teachers off their own territory. Terrifying.

They might still have a month left until the summer holidays, but my lot seem to be on school trips every week.

Jed’s already been to The Black Country Museum, and went to Thorpe Park last Friday. Thorpe Park, a blinkin’ theme park, with big roller-coasters. And it’s miles and miles away. He had to cycle to school alone at 7am. I couldn’t even be there to check the coach’s tyre pressures and smell the driver’s breath.

He groaned as I made him put on sun-cream before he left and failed to persuade him to wear a hat. He said the words no mother wants to hear: “Stop fussing Mum, you’re turning into Grandma.”

All day I was checking my mobile for messages. I gave in after lunch and sent a text while trying to be nonchalant: “How’s your day going?”

“Brill” came the eloquent reply. Eventually. 

Next week Dougie’s off to Warwick Castle (high walls), then there’s Jed’s trip to London’s West End (at night, for goodness sake), Billy goes to Twycross Zoo (wild animals!) and Doug has a French day at Wicksteed Park (don’t even get me started). Jed’s the only one of them allowed a mobile phone. I’m going to be a nervous wreck. Thank goodness the day-trip to France was cancelled. . .

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June 30, 2010 · 11:07 am

They digested the anticlimax in different ways

SORRY kids, that’s it for at least another four years. Those ridiculously-highly-paid footballers you idolise managed to dash the hopes of millions.
After all the weeks of hype, the wall-charts, the family sweepstake, the flags, the face-paint, and the anticipation, we had to explain to our confused six year old why England had been knocked out of the World Cup.
We also had to explain why a clear England goal hadn’t counted. That was tricky.
Yes Billy, the goal was in, and no, it didn’t go on the score thingy because the referee, (who must never be argued with), didn’t think it was a goal. Even though it was, obviously. And no, they don’t have video replays like rugby.
Everyone was screaming with elation when our goal/s went in, the boys clasped their hands to their faces when the German goals went in.
In the last minutes, Billy turned away, picked up his folder of Match Attach cards and let out a big sigh.
“Well, I wanted Brazil to win anyway,” he muttered, before going out in the garden to forlornly shoot a beach-ball at a mini-goal.
The older boys were like their Dad after the result. Sullen. Meanwhile, I’d had to leave the room to stop anything unsavoury coming out in earshot. It’s hard to be reasonable and sportsman-like when you want to shout expletives at people who get paid in a day what you earn in a year.
If nothing else, being an England fan as child is a great lesson in life’s anti-climaxes.

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June 24, 2010 · 11:45 am

She studiously avoids the parents’ race

Bill came second

LIMBER-UP fellow parents: It’s sports day fortnight. A time to revel in victories or bemoan the over-competitive.

 

While our nation’s footballers are making us world-class nail-biters, our off-spring will be giving it their all on the playing fields of England. Weather permitting.

Primary schools are the last bastion of parental pride for Unusual Sports. But these days you need to be a stay-at-home parent or have a flexible boss to be able to support your kids on school sports day.

Having two at the same school means a full-day of me bellowing support from the side-lines. Doug, now in his final year of primary school, Year 6, is doing ‘proper’ events including high jump, long jump, javelin (but not with real ones) and laps of the field.

Meanwhile, Billy is in Year 1 (which is actually the second year of primary school) and has progressed from Angelic Angels (are there non-angelic angels?) and Eggs on Toast events to Jumping Jellybeans and Jack and Jill races.

I can’t remember the details but there are usually hula hoops, bean bags and balancing involved. And somehow, the teaching assistants manage to keep it all just about together as children have false starts, disappear in all directions and in some cases, refuse to move at all.

When the boys were younger, sports days were different. There was a spell when headteachers seemed frightened to let children compete against each other. There were no winners. Everyone got a sticker.

It was rather confusing. The kids didn’t know if they were meant to try to win, the parents didn’t know whether to congratulate or commiserate, and although I’m sure the intention was to avoid anyone feeling bad, it didn’t really work. I’m not even sure it sent the right messages about trying your best.

A few years on, and schools have re-discovered the benefits of the ‘House’ system, where every pupil is put in a house, like at Hogwarts. At our school they are Cedar, Cherry, Oak and Birch. I can remember mine from primary school: Drake, Raleigh, Grenville and Hawkins.

The children are allocated a house when they start school and can win or lose points for behaviour and effort, including at events like sports day.

There are some parents who are happily non-competitive. I’d have to hold my hands up and admit I don’t fall in that camp. My children will roll their eyes and tell you of the occasions I’ve taken games a little too seriously.

It’s not quite at the stage where the boys worry if they lose, like some poor kids whose ‘Trophy Parents’ seem to be living their own ambitions through their offspring.

But I do like to cheer them on, alongside all the other parents who have swapped shifts at work.

I draw the line, however, at getting involved in the Parents’ Race. No ta. I may be competitive but I’m not deluded.

I’d be the one who fell over, twisted their ankle, or any other manner of public humiliation possible over 50 metres. I won’t further embarrass my kids by trying to hoick my ageing bulk down the field as the other younger, thinner and fitter parents sprint to the finish.

That way everyone’s a winner.

GOT your childcare sorted for next year then? Yes, it may be time for the long summer break but now’s the time to book your childminder or nursery place for September before school term ends.

You may be planning to go back to work after maternity leave, or thinking about working from home. Whatever your circumstances, finding the right childcare can be more stressful than moving house. How do you know what’s ‘good?’

The first thing you should do is question everyone you know who has children and used childcare. There’s nothing better than a recommendation from another parent. They’ll also be honest enough to tell you what pitfalls to look out for, and who to avoid.

If you want a nursery, just drop in to a few and see what’s happening. Most nurseries should welcome ‘surprise’ visitors so you can see exactly what’s going on at any time.

There are two types, state-run LEA nurseries, usually attached to a school and often offering part-time places for the over-threes, and year-round private nurseries, who take babies from six weeks up to pre-schoolers of four. Type your postcode into the childcare section of www.direct.gov.uk and you’ll get most registered childcarers in your area, including nurseries.

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June 23, 2010 · 11:40 pm

How to watch the football with bored toddler

Dummy, headphones, laptop, Peppa Pig on YouTube. Done.

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June 20, 2010 · 11:26 pm

Father’s Day

Had a nice lie in today. Kids brought Bloke breakfast in bed for Father’s Day. I didn’t even get a cuppa.

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June 20, 2010 · 9:58 pm

And the family went south

WE’VE been hanging around with celebrities recently. Y’know, sportsmen, singers, politicians, actors, French aristocrats from the 1700s and the like.
And yes, they were just as dumb and wooden as you’d expect. Well, dumb and wax to be precise.
Having last visited on school trips in the 1980s, Bloke and I took our offspring to Madame Tussauds.
Things have changed a lot in recent years. Apart from the queue of tourists down Marylebone Road. I’d book in advance, but more about that later.
When you’ve handed over your buggy and manhandled your squirming toddler into a control hold,  you visit the A-List Party, where the likes of Brad and Angelina, Posh and Becks, Johnny Depp and R-Pattz are hanging around being mobbed by gangs of  schoolchildren and Japanese tourists. 
It’s a surreal sight. Lots of waiting while people in front of you pose for pictures. Lots of trying to explain to your own children that we’re not taking pictures of them with every single figure in the place.
Baby Bonnie wasn’t happy. “No like Big Dolls,” she whimpered, while her brothers were stroking wax cheeks and trying to stick their fingers up wax noses. She clung to her daddy like a limpet and only released her grip when she saw the opportunity to have a quick dance on a floor with flashing disco lights. This allowed for Daddy to be photographed with Helen Mirren, who looks like she’s ignoring a stalker.
We wandered through each room, from cinema stars to sportsmen. Billy was delighted with the very accurate Steven Gerrard, but not so convinced by Becks or Johnny Wilkinson. Quite a lot of your visit is spent saying: “oh that one’s quite good,” or “it doesn’t look anything like them,” with a lot of “isn’t he/she short?”
Bonnie perked up when she saw Tinkerbell and Shrek, while Bloke got to stand by his heroes John Wayne and Christina Aguillera.
Curiously, the photos Bloke took of me and Jose Mourinho, me and Robert Downey Jnr, and me and Justin Timberlake came out all blurred.
Jed, our eldest, was only prepared to let his cool demeanour down when he saw Jimmy Hendrix, while our middle sons embraced the whole experience, chatting with Britney, being disrespectful to George Bush and Hitler, and moaning very loudly at being too young to go through the Chamber of Horrors. Which, I must explain, is nothing like the one you’d have seen if you went several years ago. Now it’s an interactive walk-through thing called Scream with actors dressed up trying desperately to scare you.
It’s not for the under 12s, so the only one who could go through was Bloke, while I sat waiting (and waiting) with the disappointed and bored kids. Bloke said we didn’t miss much, saying the old static exhibits of serial killers behind bars had been far more memorable.
We all got into sawn-in-half black cabs for the rather cringeworthy Spirit of London ride (think Disney’s It’s a Small World ride done with Churchill and Babs Windsor).
If you were expecting the old Planetarium to be included, forget it, it’s gone. Now there is a brand new 4D-specs cinema show, featuring a (very lazy) plot with all the Marvel comic book characters. You have to pay extra unless you include it in your ticket price. It’s not quite as slick as the ones at Disney, but you do get the effects of things flying at you, with air and water sprays in your seats to add to the illusion. The boys loved it, while Bonnie shot out of her seat onto Daddy’s lap and refused to wear the far-too-big-for-kids glasses.
We were done is less than two hours, and successfully distracted the offspring from the many sweet/icecream/novelties stalls on the way round.
Now, back to the tickets. It costs A LOT to take a family to Madame Tussauds.
It is certainly worth searching online for the various combination offers, two-for-ones and late-arrival discounts. To go in half-term as we did would have cost £110 pre-booking online with a family ticket and an extra child, or £123 on the door. (£28 for adults, £24 for kids, £99 for a family of 2+2). That’s an awful lot of money for a day-out when you’ve paid train fares too. The whole shebang is now owned by Merlin, who run just about every major attraction from Alton Towers and the London Dungeons, to Legoland and Warwick Castle, which is why it’s worth shopping about for family deals. You can half the price by going at 5pm, but it does seem you need to get around fairly sharpish as things start to close at 6pm.
You can find out more and book tickets by visiting http://www.madametussauds.com. I couldn’t for the life of me find a telephone booking number.

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